Ryan
The club isn’t what I thought it would be. Sure, I’d had more than a few rowdy nights at the ancient taverns and inns scattered around the Roguelands drinking homemade beer and young whiskey, but this is….
“They’re serious about a road system, then?” I ask over the thumping music, a mix of dark synth that makes my body believe it’s back in Crescent Falls, not standing in a sea of black velvet, gold finishes, and strobe lights in the center of Moonrise.
Sydney sips his whiskey cocktail, nodding as he squints through the crowd to where Sarah, Aviva, and Kenna are currently tearing up the dance floor. “Ryatt put a council of Alphas together a few years ago, and they finally voted to allow the road system. It’ll connect at the border with Crescent Falls, lead here, and across the rivers to Tarsian.”
“Tarsian is already preparing for their own super-highway,” Evander says beside me, turning with Kenna’s forgotten cherry-flavored concoction in his hand. He sips it, grimaces as he drains the glass, then continues, “They’re digging a route through the desert from Rifthold to Oasia, then down to the coastal territories.”
This is huge news. For the past twenty years, since the veil fell, the leaders of Eastonia have balked at change at every corner, and Ryatt and Ella have respected that.
But a new generation is coming of age. Our generation. Young wolves raised in the cover of Eastonia’s magic and remoteness want more. They’ve started filling Crescent Falls universities and setting up new lives outside of the Roguelands, and vice versa. Moonrise has a stellar medical university that draws large numbers of students from Crescent Falls, and the Roguelands are modernizing with every passing day.
Then there’s my territory, the Deadlands. I’m not sure how I feel about this kind of change.
I don’t have time to dwell on it. It’s hard to focus while watching Aviva move amidst the crowd. I slowly sip my drink, my eyes locked on the way she moves, like the music is part of her, thrumming through the very marrow of her bones.
I’ve never seen anyone move like her. I knew she was a good dancer after our wedding night, but she’d been doing the traditional dances–fast, intricate steps and twirls that followed standard rhythms. This is… not that. This is purely her, moving her body in a way that feels right, in the way the sensual music demands. She’s graceful in a way that doesn’t feel real. It makes me want to pick her up and carry her to the nearest closet to see how she moves on top of my lap instead of with her feet planted on the lit dance floor.
She’s wearing a bralette in rich golds and pale blues with a matching mini skirt. An outfit like this would’ve caused looks in Crescent Falls, but Moonrise, despite its age, has fashion that shows off the skin with ethereal cuts and fabrics. Strips of pale blue silk fall from her shoulders, down her back, as she turns to the music, her hips swaying, her arms stretched above her head.
Her eyes are closed, and she looks… lost. Totally, completely, lost within herself.
It’s the most alluring thing I’ve ever seen.
But I’m not the only one watching her.
Sydney straightens beside me watching a group of men stand nearby, watching the girls with a particular interest that hasn’t gone unnoticed to us–their mates and husbands.
While Aviva sways beautifully, Sarah and Kenna are moving like they’ve been drinking, which they definitely have. Sarah grabs Kenna’s arm while they both giggle frantically, neither of them aware they’re being encroached on.
But Aviva’s eyes open to slits, holding my gaze.
I tip my drink back. She knows the guys are starting to move closer. She knows one of them is coming up behind her, biting his lip as he scans her body with a predator's gaze. She’s a hunter, but she’s also been hunted. She knows how it feels. Kenna and Sarah are moving back in our direction though, still giggling, without a care or worry in the world.
Evander, Sydney, and I watch the man decide he might have a shot with my wife.
“Are you going to do anything about that?” Sydney asks as the guy places a hand on Aviva’s hip.
I set my glass on the bar we’ve been leaning against for the last half hour while our girls enjoy themselves and say, “I’ll finish whatever she starts.”
Sydney gives me a curious glance as Sarah sways into his waiting arms, but Evander is watching with a blank stare I know means he’s just as interested in what’s about to happen as I am.
Aviva whirls on the man, giving him what I’d consider to be a polite, “I’m uninterested, thanks,” kind of shove.
He leans in, curling his hand around her wrist to say something into her ear over the music.
“Ryan,” Sydney says under his breath, as if I’m not watching every second of this man touching my mate, feeling the way his hand is tightening around her wrist like it’s my own bones scraping together.
Aviva looks at me, though, her eyes wide and bright in the strobing, dim lighting. She knows I’m not going to save her unless she really wants me to. Her slightly mischievous smile fades to a sneer as she lets her free hand fly and rakes her nails across the man's face in a vicious slap that echoes over the music.
“Oh, my gods,” Evander chokes under his breath, his tone dripping with pride.
The man rears back in shock, then looks murderous as he grabs her arm and yanks her toward him.
“That’s my cue.” I kick off the bar wondering what it would feel like to crush this man’s skull between my hands. Evander follows, but Sydney stays behind with Kenna and Sarah, who still haven’t noticed what’s going on. I count each step I take to stop the urge to shift and rip this man to shreds in the center of the club. Ten. It takes me ten, steady steps before I’m in front of him, my hand curling around his throat. “Would you like to explain why you placed your hands on my mate?”
Blood coats the man’s cheek from three gashes where Aviva’s nails torn his skin. Good girl. I’ll reward her for that later.
He tries to choke out a reply as his friends move in to defend him but quickly step back when they realize the commander of their Alpha King’s Ghost army is standing at my side, dressed in his usual black, his eyes locked on their every move.
I let the man go. He takes a single wobbly step backward then swings on me against his better judgment. My fist locks against the underside of his chin before his punch can even graze the air I’m breathing, and he goes down, his eyes rolling back in his head before he even hits the floor.
No one is dancing right now. Security guards move in but stop as Evander turns to them, his face ever blank and deadly serious.
I look at the man’s friends, smiling kindly. “Be sure to tell him how lucky he is that I didn’t allow my wife to finish him off because he wouldn’t be waking up otherwise.” They gape at me as I take Aviva’s hand and lead her back to our family, the crowd parting to allow us to leave the dance floor.
“What just happened?” Kenna gasps as we rejoin Sydney at the bar.
Sarah inspects Aviva’s nails, her eyes wide with shock. Sydney eyes graze Aviva’s face before turning to mine for explanation.
‘I feel like you left something out when telling us about her,’ he says into my mind.
‘That didn’t even scrape the surface.’ I accept the drink Evander hands to me, barely tasting it. Aviva is leaning against me, her ass pressed against my groin as she talks in low tones over the music with Sarah and Kenna.
The dancing begins again as if nothing happened, but Sydney seems on edge as he watches the dance floor, his arm roped around an increasingly sleepy Sarah’s shoulders.
“I’m taking Kenna home,” Evander says as his mate clutches his shirt, whispering what I assume are absolutely filthy things in his ear based on the dark look in his eyes. She sits on a barstool beside where he’s standing, pulling him down to her level.
“We’ll go with you,” Sydney says with a nod then looks at me.
Aviva sips another fruity, sweet drink, moving absently to the music.
“We’re going to stay for a while. I owe her a dance.” My hand rests against her hip, my fingers drawing lazy circles on her naked skin above the waistband of her skirt. “We’ll see you guys in the morning.”
We watch them leave, neither of us saying a thing until they’re out of sight in the swell of the crowd.
Aviva timidly looks up at me, a bit of a blush staining her cheeks. “What?” I ask, smirking down at her.
“You’re not going to say anything?”
“About you nearly gouging that guy's eyes out? No. You could’ve done worse.”
“In front of your family. Kenna and Sarah don’t behave like that.”
“Kenna could have flattened this entire club, and Sarah would have attacked his mind.”
She rolls her eyes, taking another long drink from her glass. It’s pink liquid, something with cherry blossoms sticking from the ice on a little sprig. I take it from her, sipping experimentally. “Not bad.”
“Were you serious about that dance? You haven’t danced all night.” She turns into me, weaving her arms around my waist and propping her chin on my sternum. She’s not this… cuddly… ever. I can’t remember a single moment where she’d put her arms around me or even looked at me like she more than tolerates me in the company of others. On impulse, my hand rests on her back, warm and solid, pressing her closer.
“You’ve had a bit to drink. Are you sure you’re up for it?”
“I want to stay here forever.” She closes her eyes, her lips parted, as the song changes to something deep and rumbling, the music working its way into her every muscle.
I don’t pride myself on being a dancer. It’s hard at my size, and at clubs in the past, I’d enjoyed being danced for, whether I’d been standing with a smug look on my face or seated at a booth in a VIP section, but Aviva makes me want to move… just not like this.
The only thing I can think about as she grinds against me is getting her somewhere private. Somewhere quiet and empty, where it’s just us and not hundreds of prying eyes watching while I bend her over a sink, or a crate of booze, or right here, in the center of the crowded dance floor.
Her body is flush with mine, damp with sweat, and her touch is like fire as she turns to the music. Watching her has me in a trance I’m not sure I have the strength to snap out of.
Aviva is everything that ever peaked my interest, everything I’d lusted after, and everything I’d ever loved in one person. I am obsessed with her, to put it plainly, and I’m feeling pretty good about myself for being able to hold back and not keep her tied to my bed like I’ve been dreaming about.
But the second she turns to me again, her skin golden and glowing under the strobe lights, a bead of sweat rolling between her breasts…. “Come here,” I manage to say, my voice gravelly and low as I guide her through the crowd.
I know she can feel it too. This insane, mind-numbing pull driving my actions. She hasn’t stopped touching me since I let her guide me back to the dance floor. I can’t take it anymore. Neither can she, which is apparent the moment I burst through a door in a back hallway that ends up being a private bathroom, where we scare the hell out of a couple that had a similar desire for privacy.
“Out,” I snarl.
The man’s eyes go wide as he yanks his date out of the room. A second later, Aviva’s mouth is on mine, my back against the door, my fingers fumbling for the lock. The room is dimly lit with red walls and dark finishes. A faint glow comes from the light above the sink, but that’s it.
I don’t care about the room. I don’t give a shit about the fact I’m about to fuck my wife in a bathroom at a seedy club when she deserves a bed, preferably with a nice, firm mattress and–
“What–Aviva–” I choke out when her teeth nip at my neck, her hands traveling down the length of my abdomen, toward my belt. But she’s starting to kneel, dragging rough kisses down even further until her tongue drags over the V of muscles on my lower belly.
I grip her shoulder. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I want to.”
“Do you know… how?”
“Freya told me.”
“How would she know–fuck….” I grip her shoulders, preparing to haul her upright, as she pulls my pants down enough to free my cock. “Aviva–”
“You’ve done this for me.” She purrs, and then her tongue is sliding up my length and I’m…
I’m in love.
I’m fucking head over heels in love with her.